


Maybe Next Time

by Neneko



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Crying, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gen, Ghosts, Good Brother Ben Hargreeves, Hospitals, I suppose, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus is nineteen years old, Klaus overdoses for the first time, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Overdosing, POV Klaus, Pre-Season/Series 01, Suicidal Thoughts, That's it, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 21:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18352226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neneko/pseuds/Neneko
Summary: “Are you-- Are you even listening? You could have died, Klaus!”All of a sudden he felt sad and so, so tired. The World was sharp and unforgiving in the light of his newfound, forced sobriety. He was sober. He could feel it in his bones, that neverending ache he tried so hard to keep at bay.“Yeah… Yeah, I could have.” That was kinda the point.Just a sad bean and an even sadder Ben (woah this pun issobad!).





	Maybe Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read! English is not my first Language -I tried my best, but if you see any mistakes please let me know!

Klaus woke up in a hospital room. The sun was shining through the curtains, speckles of lights creating interesting patterns on the walls. It was a lovely day. He felt _awful_. He had celebrated his nineteenth Birthday not long ago -lots of alcohol and weed and other funny things had been involved. It was kind of unexpected he didn’t end there before, considering the huge amount of stuff he had put in his body in the last weeks. Months. Maybe years…?

“Six years, Klaus” said Ben, from his spot near the door. His mouth was a thin line of sheer disapproval. Of course his brother could read his face like the palm of his dead hands; sometimes Klaus would swear he could actually read his mind. _Oh right_ , six years already, three of which were spent with the sole company of his beloved brother’s ghost. His ghostly brother? His brother, the ghost. Anyway, it took a lot longer than he could have guessed.

Klaus sunk his spoon in the sad parody of a pudding they had given him, lifting it towards Ben in mock toast. Not that he was hungry, but he had to do-- _anything_ to keep himself entertained. “Cheers to another failure!” His brother looked puzzled. “You’re alive” he said. It sounded like a question. Klaus wanted to laugh, or ripping his own heart out of his fucking chest bare-handed. Damned him if he knew the answer.

The night before (or what he thought had been the night before) was a vague memory of throbbing music and dancing bodies, the exhilaration of the drugs and the sex -wait, had he actually had a threesome with two lovely drag kings, or had _that_ been a wonderful dream...? He scratched his hair, grimy and gross under his nails. He needed a long, warm, bubbly bath. There was that place -what was its name?- that one with shelves full of weirdly shaped bath bombs and soaps and whatsoever. He could _borrow_ one of those passing by the nearest shop; he just had to choose his favorite between dozens of shades and scents. _Pink_ , he decided. _Let’s go with the pink one_. It smelled like what he guessed fairy jizz could smell, sweet and tart, and glittery.

No nurse in sight and Klaus didn’t have any idea what it had happened, so he asked the only one who could possibly know (mostly because he stuck by his side all the time): sweet ol’ Bentacles, his very own Jiminy Cricket. “Why am I here, anyway?” “Because you overdosed, you prick!” Ben was livid -ha, that was so funny he had to stifle a giggle- but he still seemed more alive than Klaus himself, full of that rage he couldn’t be bothered feeling. What a nice pair, they made.

 _Oh_ , he simply answered. Not the most memorable of his remarks, he had to admit it. The silence stretched between them, expanding until it became heavy and serious and important. Klaus preferred his life when it was light and _soft around the edges_. Easier (not _easy_ , never). “Took me longer than expected.” He said it out loud this time, and of course it was the wrong thing to say to a pissed Ben.

“Are you-- Are you even listening?! You could have died, Klaus!”

Klaus wanted to to lose himself in the sound of Ben’s voice, to distract himself… but the way he spat his name -the hard _k_ and even harder tone- wasn’t very helpful. All of a sudden he felt sad and so, so tired. The World was sharp and unforgiving in the light of his newfound, forced sobriety. _He was sober_. He could feel it in his bones, that neverending ache he tried so hard to keep at bay.

“Yeah… Yeah, I could have.” That was kinda the point of all -all this shit.

It was a matter of minutes before they found him. First he felt them crawling, whispering. Waiting. The spoon started trembling in his loosened grip. A dollop of pudding crashed on the white, crisp sheets, but Klaus could only see blood now. There was a woman right there, and her eye sockets were empty holes. She cried his name. _Klaus_. Screamed. _KLAUS._ A child, hidden in the closet -he was sobbing, broken little sobs like a wounded animal. A man. And another. And another one, and another _andanother_. Many had died in the hospital, and Klaus could see each one of them.

He squeezed his eyes shut, put his hands on his ears. Hello, _good bye_ \-- It didn’t work, never did. Then he remembered: in the lining of his coat, the tiny pocket nobody knew it was there… He needed his fill, he needed _out_ -of this room, out of his friggin’ head that was spinning and spinning. His lungs were useless, breath shallow and too fast. “Fuck, I wanna- I need it, Benny, just this time--” He was lying and they both knew it. Ben could see them, too, their screaming faces and dismembered bodies… but they didn’t care about him, just Klaus. He was safe -Klaus wasn’t.

“No” he told Klaus, but the truth was he couldn’t do shit, he couldn’t stop him even if he tried. He rushed to his chair ~~spinningwantitgonnathrowup~~ and there it was, a small handful of pills he took with hands surer than before. He was sober enough to feel shame and that was so fucking unfortunate, ‘cause it also meant he was sober enough that he wasn’t going to stop. He _had_ to.

“Ben, please, go away, I don’t want you to see...” 

Ben shook his head. Klaus wished he was alive, wished he could feel his heartbeat under his own clammy palms. He crushed a pill under his teeth and swallowed it dry, unable to hide his smile even as tears started streaming his cheeks. “Sorry, Ben, I’m so sorry...”

Ben flickered. He looked sad, too, and older than he was -that he would always be. Klaus closed his eyes again and waited for the _softess_ to come. He wondered what would the other think of him if they could see him right now. He left out a mirthless chuckle. Yeah, what he really needed right now was for his siblings (whom he hadn’t seen in years) to pity him. ~~He still missed them every day.~~ Under his eyelids, stars started dancing in a colorful carousel, taking the sadness away. He was alone, Ben gone for the time being. He was too wasted to even see him and it seemed like a blessing, the cruelest of the blessings but he was _oh so grateful_.

 _Maybe next time_ , he thought. It was a conforting thought.


End file.
